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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501446">boys in a box</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/London_The_Loser/pseuds/London_The_Loser'>London_The_Loser</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:D, Abandonment Issues, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, DadSchlatt, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Redemption, Sad sad sad sad, Second Chances, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hes so sad lmao, i need to stop listening to 'as the world caves in', niki is so poggers, post mortem redemption lmao, there was no good reason to write this ;), yup</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:01:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/London_The_Loser/pseuds/London_The_Loser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>["naw, little man. i want you more than anything in the world, okay? i just need a little time. just a bit to figure it out, y'know? i want to make you happy, and you can have all the bee plushies in the galaxy."</p><p> </p><p>"don't want bee, want daddy."]</p><p>or,</p><p>schlatt falls apart</p><p>or, </p><p>i'm so sorry ahaahhahahhahfadsjfl</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Niki | Nihachu &amp; Jschlatt, Wilbur Soot &amp; Jschlatt, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>314</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SCHLATT APOLOGISTS, i have made him SAD &gt;:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>two boys in a box, phil thinks. what a sight. </p><p> </p><p>the man had been traveling through hypixel for the last few days to farm food from the market and mob spawners, winter approaching quickly and house too new to have a farm that will stock up on what he needs. he'd rather get this over with instead of coming all the way here during the snow season. </p><p> </p><p>but there was a box on the side of a cobble walkway. </p><p> </p><p>a box with two boys curled around each other protectively, one with long, fluffy sheep ears, and the other with stubby horns. their hair was already long and fluffy, and phil could almost immediately tell they were twins. odd, he thought. that one would have ears and the other horns. </p><p> </p><p>strange things happen, he guesses. he brings the box boys home. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>"are both of you going to sit there and pretend that one of you didn't do something bad?"</p><p> </p><p>the room stayed silent. </p><p> </p><p>"you know what happens when you do something bad."<br/><br/></p><p>schlatt huffed from his spot on the couch, brother at his side. wilbur elbowed him sharply in the ribs. </p><p> </p><p>phil just sighs. </p><p> </p><p>"when i find out which one of you did it- and we all know i'll find out- you will be punished. <em>maybe </em>if you confess now, i'll lower the work load for good behavior. hm?"</p><p> </p><p>the boys remained silent. </p><p> </p><p>schlatt's stomach twisted sharply. wilbur hated the caves. wilbur <em>hated </em>the caves. they reminded him of things that phil didn't know about, they reminded him of dark cages and rough hands dragging them through empty corridors (schlatt hated the caves too. they made his hands shake, but phil didn't know that. had never taken them down before, only held the threat over their head's. the punishment was <em>labor</em>, not too difficult and nothing cruel. phil didn't <em>know. </em>didn't know what came before a cardboard box on the side of the road. didn't know too much had happened in the 10 years the twins had been alive). </p><p> </p><p>wilbur hated the caves. </p><p> </p><p>"i did it." </p><p> </p><p>wilbur turned his head towards schlatt, eyes wide and hesitant. schlatt glared and huffed, pretending to look defeated, pretending to look frustrated. he knew wilbur would see the sureness in his eyes as their gaze's met. </p><p> </p><p>wilbur swallowed. schlatt gave a curt nod, stood on unsteady legs, and let their new guardian lead him out of the house and towards the mines. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>schlatt hates caves. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>wilbur loved techno, and schlatt got along well with him, and wilbur beamed giddily as he watched his two brothers crash wooden cars together loudly. they almost had the same cackle. they had a good thing going, the twins are sure of it. </p><p> </p><p>on weekdays, techno drags wilbur out of the house at 5am to spar, train, practice. the 13 year old (only 2 years older than the newly turned 11 year olds) was ridiculously trained for his age. schlatt and wilbur both agreed to pretend like they didn't know what that meant, like they didn't see the way techno's hand's tightened around his sword handle when phil was watching, like they didn't hear his choked cries at night when he trashed awake from a nightmare. they didn't have any business knowing until techno deemed them worthy of that knowledge. </p><p> </p><p>their family was good, they're sure of it. what else could it be, when phil and wilbur were throwing flour at each other from across the kitchen? when techno read quietly by the fireplace or sharpened his blade methodically on a whetstone? schlatt didn't think he would ever be capable of feeling <em>whole </em>again, but this might be as close as he gets. he had a family, people to help him take care of wilbur, and people to help wilbur take care of <em>him. </em></p><p> </p><p>what else could he want?</p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>"get out." </p><p> </p><p>schlatt's hand froze in the air after it had flown up in a wild, angry gesture. spit lodged in the back of his throat, and he's ten second away from telling wilbur to either <em>come out from around the fucking corner, or leave. </em></p><p> </p><p>"i said get out, jschlatt. get out of my house."</p><p> </p><p>he was 15. he was <em>fifteen. </em>it had been 5 years and he was 15 and this was his house too, he <em>lived here, </em>this was where his family lived. <em>his </em>family. they were his family too now, they had to be. not to mention wilbur. schlatt couldn't just <em>leave, </em>wilbur would have to come with, and he was far too comfortable here with tommy and techno (so was schlatt, so was <em>schlatt. </em><em>he needed them all so much</em>), phil couldn't just kick him out. </p><p> </p><p>"what the fuck?! you can't just fucking kick me out!" he shouted, unwilling to let his angry defenses drop at the possibility of breaking down right there, in the kitchen. he was fifteen and he was stupid and angry all the damn time but this was his <em>family. </em>why would he leave?</p><p> </p><p>"yes, i can. and i will. if you're so insistent on doing stupid shit to prove how <em>capable </em>you are, then go. go be capable on your <em>own, </em>because i will not have you continuing to drag conflict in while they're is still growing up!"</p><p> </p><p><em>i'm still growing up, dad. dad please. please i'm just a kid, i'm just a </em>kid<em>, i pretend i'm not but should you </em>know better<em>?! you were supposed to be my stability. this was supposed to be our new beginning. why would you save us from the side of the road if you'd just make me </em>leave again-</p><p> </p><p>"what about- what about wilbur?"</p><p> </p><p>schlatt tried not to flinch when he heard his older twin step up next to him, but he couldn't control the tremors in his muscles as he fought back the urge to lose his shit. </p><p> </p><p>"i just think you should take some time on your own, schlatt. to like- figure yourself out or something. you can't just keep hurting my family and acting like it didn't happen."</p><p> </p><p>'my family'. <em>my </em>family. wilbur's. not schlatt's. was schlatt not his family too? was their matching height, laugh, face, hair- was it not enough? were the sleepless nights of promising, <em>swearing to whatever god there was, </em>that he would get them out of labor trafficking rings and get them somewhere safe, not enough? were the bloody knuckles he wore proudly since he was 6 years old, just to be called a fucking <em>problem child </em>not enough? would he ever be enough? </p><p> </p><p>"i know who i am, wilbur!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>i'm yours, that's what i am. i'm your happiness and your comfort and your sadness and your struggle. what else could i be? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"a bully isn't an identity."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>you're supposed to be mine, too. when did you become theirs, instead?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>she was pretty, and she was brave and funny and so goddamn strong. stronger than he'd ever manage to be. she reminded him of fists and scrapes and bruises and blood, and anything was better than people that reminded him of invasive touches and drugged hazes where you could barely understand anything except the knowledge that someone's ripping you apart in ways you'll never piece back together. </p><p> </p><p>she smothered his fire just to build him a new one, stronger and brighter and hotter. she taught him to <em>hate </em>instead of love, or maybe she just convinced him they were the same thing. he was broken, damaged, ripped from the boy who was meant to be his other half. split down the middle and still gaping, she shoved him back together and told him to man up and handle the pain that came with the messy and unfinished fix. he'd never be okay again and that was just the truth. </p><p> </p><p>(he refused to wonder if <em>wilbur </em>was okay again, if he was split down the middle like schlatt. if he was damaged beyond repair. if he even missed his brother, struggling for food on the street most days and getting smacked around and lectured by an angry girl who liked him for his scars and nothing else.)</p><p> </p><p>and when she wanted to use him as more than a punching bag, he went along with it. it felt good, sometimes, too. her body a blazing inferno pressed against his, thought's numbing in a way he never wanted to let go. </p><p> </p><p>she didn't give a shit when his skin burned with memories of the past, didn't give a shit as she carved new nightmares into his mind. </p><p> </p><p>at least he wasn't alone. at least someone found his fractured soul appealing.</p><p> </p><p>at least someone <em>wanted him. </em></p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>she left two days after their baby was born, and he almost threw the damn thing off a bridge. he didn't, but he almost did. </p><p> </p><p>he ended up curling around it tightly and crying softly into it's- <em>his </em>fuzzy hair. he never cries, but the boy in his arm's was <em>his, </em>and she left him and he was alone and poor and malnourished after months of giving her more food than himself, but there was a baby boy in his arms and it was his. </p><p> </p><p>he's starve for as many months as his boy needed.</p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>chubby fingers wrapped tightly around his pointer finger as they wandered through crowded market streets, picking out a birthday present. </p><p> </p><p>"jeez, little man. 3 already? you're so gosh darn huge."</p><p> </p><p>"i'm the <em>hugest!</em>" the boy says excitedly, tugging on schlatt's finger in order to drag him towards a stuffed plush stall. </p><p> </p><p>"bee! bee bee bee!" he sang, bouncing up and down to get a better look at the medium sized bee plushie that sat in a basket behind the counter. the price sign said $35. schlatt swallowed. he hadn't had a proper meal in nearly a week, but-</p><p> </p><p>the ram looked fondly at his boy, chin pushed up on the counter and toes pointed inwards, looking so damn giddy to even have the bee in his sight. </p><p> </p><p>and schlatt was always softer than he should be. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>they didn't have a house, not really. there was a roof over their head and his boy slept comfortably on a warm bed beside schlatt. but it wasn't a house, he couldn't afford a house. he couldn't afford a lot of things, and it ate away at his quivering form. it was 5am and he couldn't stop his slow dissent into brokenness, his boy was too thin and small and didn't get nearly as much as he fucking deserved because schlatt had the audacity to bring a kid into such a shit world, with no idea how to <em>raise it </em>or provide for it. </p><p> </p><p>he reminded schlatt too much of wilbur. </p><p> </p><p>he could remember taking care of wilbur. </p><p> </p><p>it had been 8 years since he'd even talked to him, many more since he had to protect him aside from closeted fist fights and bribes made in shadowy corners. kids at school thought he looked funny, with his goofy ears and dopey smile and old, shitty guitar. schlatt wouldn't let will get <em>hit. </em>not again, not after he promised to get them out, and safe. wilbur shouldn't have to take a hit ever again. </p><p> </p><p>schlatt looked tiredly at his boy, smile like dripping caramel and giggle like fire burning deep in his father's heart. his boy was everything, and schlatt knew that if he lost him, he'd split down the middle all over again. he's tired of being ripped apart. </p><p> </p><p>but he couldn't take care of him. he <em>couldn't</em>. tired, hungry, too young, too inexperienced, too much trauma and pain. he'd give everything for his boy, but he had nothing more to give but the life in his eyes. and if he died, what would possibly become of his son? alone on the streets, without a dad (a shitty one, but a dad none-the-less). </p><p> </p><p>schlatt needed him, but tubbo needed more. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>"...don't fucking tell me."</p><p> </p><p>"will, please."<br/><br/></p><p>"no, schlatt what the fuck?"</p><p> </p><p>"can you please just get phil and-"</p><p> </p><p>his brother's hand came down sharply on the kitchen table, and schlatt felt anger flare in his gut when tubbo flinched. crouching down slowly, the hybrid made soft eye contact with the 4 year old in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>"hey, bud. we're gunna see if you can stay with uncle will and grandpa phil for a while, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>tubbo's eyes were wide and nervous, swimming in confused hurt as tears welled up slowly. <em>christ </em>schlatt couldn't do this-</p><p> </p><p>"why- don't want me?"</p><p> </p><p>the man breathed in slowly, eyes falling shut as he folded his arms around the boy in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>"naw, little man. i want you more than anything in the world, okay? i just need a little time. just a bit to figure it out, y'know? i want to make you happy, and you can have all the bee plushies in the galaxy."</p><p> </p><p>"don't want bee, want daddy."</p><p> </p><p><em>fuck. </em>fuck. schlatt wasn't strong, was never strong, not even when he thought he was. but for <em>once, </em>for once he just wanted to be strong <em>enough. </em></p><p> </p><p>wilbur looked angry, and phil had finally entered through the back door. </p><p> </p><p>"phil, can you take tubs? i wanna talk to wilbur."</p><p> </p><p>phil didn't even glance at his <em>sons </em>skinny frame, tired eyes, broken posture. he eyes were landing on the small boy in overralls, clutching a bee tightly to his chest. his dad's eye's were soft, warm. like he cared more about tubbo than his own son. not for the first time, schlatt remembered his burning anger the night she left, standing alone on a bridge with a bundle tucked in his arms. </p><p> </p><p>he feels sick as his dad takes tubbo by the hand and leads him out of the room. </p><p> </p><p>"you're such a fucking mess, how could you be so irresponsible? a <em>kid?! </em>schlatt, what the hell?"</p><p> </p><p>the man just let his eyes fall shut, still crouched on the floor. he didn't think he could stand, not with his lungs closing in around the pain that ached deep inside them. he'd do anything for tubbo, <em>he'd do anything for wilbur, </em>but he was weak. all he fucking wanted was safety, and warm arms around him, and to keep his other half close like it should have always been.</p><p> </p><p>"i can't understand why you continue to ruin your own life."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>i'm just a kid, will. when did you start seeing me as a monster? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>drinking replaced the cold with warmth. </p><p> </p><p>alcohol steadied his hands. </p><p> </p><p>his drunken mind turned sadness into anger, and everything was okay again. </p><p> </p><p>people would leave, schlatt had himself and his broken pieces and his liquor. </p><p> </p><p>schlatt had a messy drawing a bee tucked into his back pocket, an old guitar pick pressed up next to it. </p><p> </p><p>people would leave, and schlatt had himself. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>her hands could fit tightly around his waist, too thin from living sick and hungry on the streets. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>she liked the way he broke, she liked the way he fell apart. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>schlatt jolted awake alone, nothing but a bottle keeping him company in his dingy one-room inn. god, he was tired. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>when he turns 20, he buys a gift for wilbur and leaves it on their front step, just like every year before. </p><p> </p><p>nothing waited for him in return, and schlatt wasn't surprised. </p><p> </p><p>could he even call them his world, anymore? how could they be his everything, if he couldn't even see their faces?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>because i'll always be nothing without them. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>schlatt never got better, never changed, never succeeded. </p><p> </p><p>tubbo was 14 when they finally moved out of their old family house. </p><p> </p><p>the hybrid will never forget the feeling of standing on their front steps, birthday card and yellow striped sweater clutched tightly in his shaking hand's, only to realize no one was home. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>"where did tubbo come from again?"</p><p> </p><p>"we found him in a box!"</p><p> </p><p>"a box?"</p><p> </p><p>"fitting, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"haha, absolutely!"</p><p> </p><p>schlatt clutched a bottle by it's neck. </p><p> </p><p>a <em>box. </em>what a joke.</p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>being president was shitty, exiling wilbur and tommy was shitty, pretending he didn't give a shit was shitty, and above all,</p><p> </p><p>seeing his son get ripped apart by a firework blast, killed by his own brother?</p><p> </p><p>schlatt thought of a bridge, thought of his knees on the floor in his old living room, his son with his father as his brother lashes words into his heart. </p><p> </p><p>if schlatt went insane, he's sure as hell bringing wilbur with him. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>dying was nice.</p><p> </p><p>he thinks he likes being dead.</p><p> </p><p>/////////////</p><p> </p><p>"what is it, tubbo?"</p><p> </p><p>"h-his inventory. we found something in it."</p><p> </p><p>"...what did you find?"</p><p> </p><p>"just- a bee drawing. it's all scribbled and messy."</p><p> </p><p>"what about it?"</p><p> </p><p>"...phil says it's mine."</p><p> </p><p>schlatt tilted his head curiously from outside the closed door, smile stretching his pale-grey face. </p><p> </p><p>his boy had grown so much. </p><p> </p><p>////////////</p><p> </p><p>"oh! niki, it's so lovely to see you!"</p><p> </p><p>"hello, ghostbur. how are you, today?"</p><p> </p><p>"wonderful! i think i saw schlatt drifting by my note blocks, which was splendid."</p><p> </p><p>"why are you so happy to see schlatt?"</p><p> </p><p>"oh it's been so long since we've talked, niki. i'm sure he misses his little boy, he might even miss me! although he never quite seemed to like me."</p><p> </p><p>"...his little boy?"</p><p> </p><p>"yes! oh he's so precious, you would love him. loves that little bee toy schlatt got him, and he only ever wears the same worn out pair of overalls. he's bound to grow out of them soon, but phil was already planning on getting him a new pair."</p><p> </p><p>"will... i think you're remembering something from a long time ago."</p><p> </p><p>"really? again? but i'm almost sure it was just recently. oh, niki, he looked so sad. you should have seen his face when i told him to leave, i don't think i'll ever forgive myself for it. but i'm sure he's fine now! schlatt always was the bravest, niki. oh you should have seen him when we were younger, always getting into fights for me. i miss him, really."</p><p> </p><p>"i'm sure you do, will" came a quiet response. </p><p> </p><p>schlatt doesn't understand why all of it seemed so wrong. of course will missed him!</p><p> </p><p>they were brother's, after all.  </p><p> </p><p>/////////////</p><p> </p><p>i'm so sorry, gaymers. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. second chances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>["...what do you think i deserve?"</p><p>niki let her eyes meet schlatt's, her grip on his cold hand tightening. </p><p>"the same chance to be happy that other's were given."]</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was unnecessary but a nice touch, i think? i hope it's good lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>niki swallowed roughly around the anxiety that sat heavy on her chest, back pressed against a wooden wall as she attempted to hide herself from the horned ghost that sat tiredly under the l'mantree. there was something sad about him, something far too different from ghostbur. the man never failed to act cheery around the other server members, even when they glared daggers at him and his baggy blue sweater. but alone?</p><p> </p><p>she hated the man while he was living, yet something so lonely hung over his head when he had the chance to soak in his singularity. she tried not to sympathize, tried not to forgive those who didn't deserve forgiveness, but after talking with wilbur, there weren't enough pieces to fit a picture together, and the mystery of untold stories made her hatred melt into empathetic curiosity. this man knew wilbur, had a son, had been abandoned and left behind. why? </p><p> </p><p>sucking in a deep, steadying breath, niki quietly made her way towards the quiet ghost. </p><p> </p><p>the other didn't notice her until she was seating herself carefully next to him, jerking slightly and snapping his eyes towards her. she was sure she saw a flicker of panic, guilt, maybe sadness. </p><p> </p><p>and then he was straightening his back, loosening his shoulders, cocking his head childishly and smiling. god, he was such a good actor. how much had he done that in his living-life? how often did he pretend?</p><p> </p><p>"hello, niki! what's up with you, today?"</p><p> </p><p>the woman in question met schlatt's eyes, searching for that same darkness she had just found. <em>almost. i can almost see it. </em></p><p> </p><p>"schlatt."</p><p> </p><p>the ram just tilted his head again, eyebrows furrowing innocently. </p><p> </p><p>"did i do somethin'?"</p><p> </p><p>"you're pretending."</p><p> </p><p>niki watched as schlatt's eyes grew almost instantly, jaw clenching and muscles tensing in something akin to preparation. ghostbur didn't do that, not even when he was blatantly threatened. with no memory of the bad events in his life, he was nothing but naive to the damages that could be done by other people. <em>schlatt, </em>schlatt however. </p><p> </p><p>"i- huh?"</p><p> </p><p>"you're pretending you don't remember. why?"</p><p> </p><p>the ghost swallowed, blinking tiredly. "i don't know what you're talking about, niki." he sounded defeated, exhausted. like living weighed him down, even after death. </p><p> </p><p>"you're not like ghostbur, schlatt. we both know you're not."</p><p> </p><p>it was quiet for a while, schlatt bringing up his knees to tuck under his chin. niki turned thoughts over in her head, wondering why this was happening. why everything that schlatt did lead here, with the two of them sitting under a sacred tree, tired and worn thin by the world. </p><p> </p><p>"i know it's not fair, that he get's to move on. that he doesn't have to live with himself anymore. but you can't keep pretending, you know it's not true. you know that- that no matter how often you shove down the memories of how they hurt you... they'll always come back. isn't it better to accept them?"</p><p> </p><p>looking to her side, niki could see the layer of wetness glossing over schlatt's eyes, his arms wrapped protectively around the knees pressed to his chest. she thinks about what she said, just now. who has hurt him? <em>he has hurt you. </em>yes, but that doesn't erase his past. <em>his past doesn't erase his present. </em>of course not, that wasn't the point of this. the point is fair judgment, what right does she have to look at him with unfiltered scorn when she has no idea of the life he was sentenced to before this? <em>you're incapable of fair judgment. you're never strong enough to hold people accountable for what they've done. </em>kindness will always be a strength, and she will always know that it is a great deal harder to be forgiving than angry. she did not deserve his actions, but he did not deserve other's. </p><p> </p><p>"you're right." came a raspy answer from beside her, ending her internal debate and directing her attention back towards the hybrid. "i'm assuming you want me to tell you my tragic backstory? maybe sprinkle in some manipulation? or would gaslighting you be better, niki?" </p><p> </p><p>contrary to the words he had spoken, his tone wasn't angry. tired, yes. frustrated, yes. but angry? not at niki. </p><p> </p><p>something cold and sad wrapped its way around her heart. </p><p> </p><p>"schlatt, sharing your past with me <em>is not</em> the equivalent of... of manipulation. i am not looking for reasons to excuse your actions. i'm looking for reasons to give you a second chance, because i cannot deny you one without knowing what makes you human." </p><p> </p><p>"i'm not-"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>yes, </em>you <em>are. </em>now prove it to me, if you are comfortable with it."</p><p> </p><p>silence fell once again, and niki let it. regardless if the man wanted to talk about his life with her, she would continue to be here for him. reserved, guarded, but <em>here. </em>just in case he needed her. several minutes ticked by, the sun beginning to slip towards the bottom quarter of the sky, temperature lowering and a gentle breeze picking up. niki smiles as wind flowed through her hair, l'manburg's lanterns standing out against the yellow faded sky. she loved her country, but she loved her friend's more. schlatt had hurt them, and they had hurt them back. was it not justified to assume they could exist together?</p><p> </p><p>"me and wilbur grew up uh- as property, basically. mostly manual labor jobs, y'know, free kids that could move shit around. we weren't old enough to be useful, so we took the brunt of the punishment when we couldn't figure shit out. sometimes they- well. you know how it is, when shitty guys own little kids. 'never let it happen to will though, i don't know how i managed to keep him from that shit for so many years but- but i did. it's one of the few things i'm proud of myself for, i guess."</p><p> </p><p>niki could feel the same sadness winding a little tighter around her chest, eternally grateful that she grew into her ability to take a second and consider another's perspective. schlatt hurt them, it wasn't okay, none of this was. but did anybody deserve to spend their afterlife surrounded by people, but so painfully alone in their sadness? </p><p> </p><p>"so you and wilbur are brothers?" she asked quietly, voice gentle. </p><p> </p><p>"twins, yeah. we were around, around 10 maybe? when i uh- ha, i swung at some guy's sack, grabbed will, and ran for the fucking hills. and when we finally realized we were out- god it was the best fucking feeling, y'know? laying out in the middle of who-knows-where, watching clouds roll by because we <em>could. </em>but it wasn't easy after that, of course. we didn't have anywhere to go, we had no idea where anything was. we ended up in hypixel, of all places, tucked up in a box just outside of the market. we were hoping for someone to give us pity food, at the most. maybe extra money? but uh- phil actually passed by and i guess though 'hey! two hybrid street kids, perfect chance to raise those sons i've always wanted!'"</p><p> </p><p>niki grinned as she watched schlatt loosen up, obviously becoming more comfortable with her presence. </p><p> </p><p>"we stayed with phil for a while, and after maybe a year or two, he picked up techno. the three of us- me, will and techno- we got along really, <em>really </em>well, and it barely took a couple months for us to- well. fit ourselves together, like a real family. none of us had ever really had one of those, it was just so <em>special. </em>we had somewhere to feel safe. and- life wasn't good, of course it wasn't. i was... i was such an angry fucking kid, <em>god-</em>" niki placed her hand over schlatt's, meeting his gaze and smiling in reassurance. his face slipped into one of appreciation, his hand flipping over to intertwine their fingers. </p><p> </p><p>"i guess i just, well. i got into a lot of fights with kid's who said fucked up shit, about will mostly. i was scared they'd try and hurt him, of course they would, it's public school and all that. i went off and did stupid shit with kids who weren't really my friends, because i could never get used to the feeling of- of being my own person. i guess i never realized that i was never 'being my own person'. i was just mimicking the standard idea of rebellion that all these- all these <em>normal kids </em>were talking about, there was nothing else to do. so yeah, long story short, i was an idiot."</p><p> </p><p>"you weren't an idiot, you made naive decisions. can you blame yourself? nobody told you how to make the right ones."</p><p> </p><p>"i knew what the right decisions were-"</p><p> </p><p>"you misheard me. <em>how </em>to make the right decisions. <em>how. </em>stop talking bad about yourself, if you didn't deserve it then, than you don't deserve it now."</p><p> </p><p>schlatt took a shaky breath in, nodding hesitantly before continuing. </p><p> </p><p>"and was 15 when phil told me to leave-" niki sucked in a sharp breath, a pulse of unbridled anger shooting through her system at the idea that an <em>adult </em>would sentence a <em>kid</em> to a life alone, but schlatt was already moving on "- so of course i- i left. he was, in all accounts, my father. i knew i disappointed him, so i assumed i deserved the punishment."</p><p><br/>"you know you didn't, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"yeah... yeah i think. i have a hard time remembering."</p><p> </p><p>"everyone has a hard time remembering what they deserve."</p><p> </p><p>"...what do you think i deserve?"</p><p> </p><p>niki let her eyes meet schlatt's, her grip on his cold hand tightening. <br/><br/><br/></p><p>"the same chance to be happy that other's were given."</p><p> </p><p>the ghost looked away, swallowing roughly and bringing a sweater-covered hand to wipe under their nose. </p><p> </p><p>"it was hard to live on the streets. i got real sick, real skinny. and i met this... this girl. she wasn't good for me, i don't think- no, no i <em>know </em>she wasn't. she didn't really care about me, i guess she liked watc'ing me... fall apart. i did that a lot, especially when she- when she reminded me of being younger. when she found out we were gunna have a kid- god she threw a fit, i think if i was alive a would've still had the scars from when i forced a vodka out of her hands just for her to fucking stab me with it." </p><p> </p><p>anger once again resurfaced, mad that someone would do that to a young boy, mad that phil let him live like that to begin with, mad that wilbur watched it happen. <em>you should've seen his face when i told him to leave. </em></p><p> </p><p>niki pushed back vague bits of nausea and turned her attention back towards schlatt. </p><p> </p><p>"but she eventually gave birth to him, and left- almost immediately after he was delivered. it hurt, of fucking course it did, she was the only person who 'cared' about me at the time. and i hated the kid, for being the reason she left me. i almost killed him, which was- so fucked up, and i can't explain how glad i am that i didn't go through with it, because i have never met a more... perfect person in my entire life. i still... god i still love him <em>so much.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>schlatt let his head fall onto niki's shoulder, cloudy tears dripping from his eyes and disappearing mid-air. </p><p> </p><p>"life was just as shitty from there. i was poor as fuck, couldn't afford meals for the both of us, i ended up feeding tu- the kid more than me. he needed it more, being so small. and i guess we just lived like that for- for about 4 years, really. but- something went wrong, eventually. i lost my job, had to work at some shitty fast food joint down the block, and it wasn't enough to cover all the bases. so i uh- i ended up giving him to will and phil. the day i dropped them off was probably the first day i had seen them in- god, 8 years? wilbur was just pissed, phil didn't even fucking look at me, so all in all, it was pretty shit. giving up your son and being reminded that nobody gave a crap about you, all in one day? lucky me.</p><p> </p><p>"after that i basically just fell off the fucking deep end. got really hooked on alcohol and cigarettes, scraped by on desperate business owners who would fire me after a couple months, conning, pick pocketing, or fuckin freelance prostitution. well- that's a bit of an exaggeration, maybe. they gave me some money. whatever, it was a shitty time. i got old, never really grew up, learned that my dearest fuck wad of a brother was running a <em>democratic election</em> and decided to use my can artist charm to steal his thunder."</p><p> </p><p>the man's head was still set heavily on niki's shoulder, the soft rise and fall of his chest reminding her that he didn't actually need to breathe. she almost cried right along with him, knowing that he lived a life of rejection and abuse just to die surrounded by people he wounded. what had any of them done to deserve tragic endings? what did any of them do that warrant so much pain?</p><p> </p><p><em>no</em>, she thought, <em>that wasn't schlatt's ending. </em></p><p> </p><p>niki was <em>here, </em>she was here and she wouldn't let anyone, hero or villain alike, rot in their own poison while everyone else watched. </p><p> </p><p>"well, jschlatt of smplive and dream smp, i think that was a beautifully story, and more than enough reason to be given the loveliest second chance with the loveliest girl on this server."</p><p> </p><p>schlatt chuckled weakly, reaching up yet again to rub at his puffy eyes and red nose. </p><p> </p><p>"and you, niki nihachu, are the best angel i could've possibly met in the afterlife."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>idk if this is any good, i've been up since 5am and have decided to write this dfajla;fks;afahg</p></blockquote></div></div>
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